


Twisted

by Promise



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Angels are Dicks, Devils, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Promise/pseuds/Promise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amariel is an Angel. Apos is a Devil. Angels loving Devils, Devils falling for Angels... it's the same disgusting old story the two keep hearing over and over again. Only this time, they are the ones repeating it.<br/>This story chronicles the start of them hearing about Angels being with Devils, to the end, where both could only ponder on possibilities as their superiors chase them down.<br/>"I wonder," Amariel mused as she stared at the bleeding lines on Apos's chest, "just what do those silly Angels see in Devils?"<br/>"Themselves, perhaps," he grunts, crystal blue eyes meeting Amariel's green. "Or perhaps the startling cruelty of this world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Judgment in Heaven (I)

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a train wreck.

From the early dawn of creation, when their Maker crafted their souls and forms out of pure light, most Angels never thought of disobeying Him, with the exception of the dastardly Lucifel and those who chose to follow his dark path. The Angels listened, sang in their melodious voices, presiding, or rather, protecting, human domains that were ravaged by the cruelties of war. With their certain existence as tools in their God's realm, few Angels dared question the way of the world since The Fall.

And this is why Amariel was bored. 

The Angel of Love despised order, preferring to see interesting material on the Human World. Gory little things called war happened there often, along with strife, violence, inequality and all the sins even Lucifel would not be able to name. In her self-defence, Love itself is chaotic. With Love came multitudes of sins that would end in either peace or utter bloodshed. There is no in-between.

And perhaps because Amariel's nature as Love is chaotic, she is as such. Yet, in the permanently brilliant skies and clouds of Cielo, not darkened even during The Fall, Love found herself trapped in a gossamer cage.

Until one day came the most frighteningly disgustingly delightful chaos of a love story.

It was the work of a single foolish male Angel named Lairz. His features were graceful, his stature lithe, and he was one of Amariel's underlings. Also, he seemed lacking of a thing known as 'fear' and 'subordination'. 

In the divine court of Cielo, simultaneous to the ruling being held in Inferno, white-feathered wings twitched nervously as hushed whispers filled the spacious room. Defendants, friends of Lairz, came to speak up for him, trying to convince Orphiel the Judge that the Devil who seduced Lairz was trying to cause strife in Cielo. Surely! they cry. Surely this must be the work of Lucifel!

"I wonder about that," Zurchol snorted next to Amariel as the foolish little Angel spat poisonous words imbued with fury at his friends. 

I love that Devil, so declared Lairz. I love that Devil so much more than I love God!

The statement, bold and glaring, sent shock waves throughout all the ranks. Amariel raised an eyebrow. My, oh my. A subordinate of her saying that? The lesser to Love saying such a thing? Orphiel glanced at her briefly, silver eyes searching her orbs. She smiled back sweetly.

"Your claim is about Love," the Judge murmured. "Then I shall allow Love herself to decide your fate."

Nods of agreement, a chorus of angered words dictating his punishment, a song of utter fury at this little angel corrupting the word 'Love' by claiming his twisted, corrupted love for a damned being was pure. 

The friends of Lairz slink back , wings trying to hide their devastated expressions. 

Naturally, the immediate state of course would be to send Angel Lairz to Inferno, where he would suffer for his sins for a million years before his wings are to be torn out, and his skull smashed so that when he healed, while he breathes the toxic fumes of Hell, his incarnation would be as a Devil. But then again, is the partner of Lairz not in Hell?

"Yours is a special case, Lairz," Amariel said lazily. "The immediate answer would be to send you to Lucifel, but your dearest partner is there too. The only answer would be..." 

Amariel paused, nodding for two of Lairz's more burly friends to approach her, and another nod for Diari to do so. Whispers abound as Amariel instructed them on what to do. When her words had been spoken, the duo friends were weeping openly while Diari assumed a resolute emotionless expression.

As they do as Love said, Amariel slowly spelled out Lairz's sentence, "Lairz, your wings shall be torn out; no longer would you be seen as one of the Third Sphere. You shall wander the Earth for an eternity. Normally, this would be a chance to see your beloved. However, Diari shall eliminate that chance."

Gasps of shock. Indeed. Diari was a minor Angel, yes, but her specialty power was formidable to say the least; she could curse any being as long as it involved causing the utmost pain to the creature. Needless to say, it was a rather demonic power; but the Devils themselves too had assets of Angelic grace.

Lairz's eyes remained firm until Amariel said the part about Diari. His knees shook, and he collapsed into a heap of sobs and tears. With the stern eyes of Orphiel, and the cries of a thousand Angels, his friends had no choice to obey and, in a single instant, tore off the tattered wings on Lairz's back.

The screams started instantly. Lairz howled in pain, and golden fluid spurted out of the stumps on his back, coloring his simple white clothing a gleaming gold. But, by the time Diari had dragged Lairz to his feet, her lips forming the power of words that is to be his sentence, the golden fluid had dulled to bronze. 

"Well then, repent on your so-called love," Amariel said coldly.

The ground parted beneath Lairz's feet and he fell through the gap, screaming in misery. 

\-----

"So-called love, eh?" Orphiel murmured.

Amariel narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

They rested in Amariel's magnificent gardens; flowers of cobalt blue surrounded their sanctuary, with glittering gold and shining silver highlighting the simple beauty of Love's realm. Ordering the restoration of normal activities was difficult, with the controversy still alive in the Angels' minds. The threat of getting Michael, Gabriel or, may it be forbidden, their Maker, involved was enough to deter any curious, nosy youngling.

"I do not mean to insult your abilities, nor infringe on your domain," Orphiel said carefully. "But do you truly believe the feelings Lairz held for that Devil were false?"

Amariel sniffed daintily. "Are you questioning the guidelines we Angels rule by? You? Law?"

"I do not mean to," he quickly stated, frowning just as fast. "But... you know how humans reveal their hidden thoughts only in the most stressful of situations. And just now, Lairz... that boy of yours-

"Screamed that Devil's name all the way down," Amariel spat cruelly. "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Then I do so hope you remember we Angels are not Humans," Amariel's smile was biting. "Oh no; far from it. Why, I had not even felt romantic love before!"

"Ah, yes," Orphiel smiled. "Love herself knows nothing of love. Pathetic, wouldn't you agree?"

"It is," Amariel agreed, "just as pathetic as Law questioning their own self."

\-----

"Checkmate, Amariel," Diari plucked the King out of Amariel's still grasp.

Diari and Amariel now played chess. Over hundreds of thousands of years had passed since the first case of an Angel falling for a Devil. For the sake of the pretense of love. Since they began to happen with frightening regularity, Amariel rarely had a single day of rest - she occupied herself with keeping a look out on who was dating who, any Angel being sent outside of Heaven, and naturally, her subordinates.

Due to the slowing cases, Amariel now took the spare time to play chess with Diari - the Angel whose abilities inspired her sentencing for Lairz's case. It does frustrate knowing Amariel will only ever lose against Diari, though.

"Ah yes," Amariel eyed the black-and-white checkered board. "This dastardly creation... I could never understand it fully."

Diari smiled minutely, placing the delicately carved wooden pieces into a box. "Patience."

"That Virtue is gone," Amariel automatically said, staring out of the window in disgust. Again. Again Cielo only had grey clouds and thunder. For a hundred years or so, this had been an increasing trend day by day. And gossiping Angels all speculate it was because of...

"You remember, don't you?" Amariel stated coldly, left hand holding her cheek, elbow on her lap. "Patience fell for love's sake."

Amariel's failure to induce a more harsh punishment for Lairz. As an example to all Angels. The very thought sent her blood boiling and her teeth gritting. Due to her failure, more 'Lairz's followed. And they started to increase a hundred years prior.

"Perhaps one day, all those former Angels will understand their love is not true," Diari said coolly.

"Don't mock me," Amariel snarled, still glaring at the weather outside. "Love... Love is simply just foolish, utter nonsense. When they claimed to love, they were mocking me."

"Love doesn't exist," Amariel got up from her chair and walked off, slamming the door behind her. "It never did."


	2. The Ruling in Hell (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second train wreck.

From the early dawn of The Fall, ever since Lucifel boldly proclaimed his revolution against Cielo, few Devils went against his order, with the exception of the cowardly few who caved in and flew back to Cielo to plead with God to let them back in. The Devils whispered, sung of great promises that were all lies, rousing violence, or rather, being the root of the problem in the first place, in human lands too pure to still be in this universe. With their absolute existence as faithful servants to Lucifel, many Devils did not question the way of the world since The Fall.

And that was why Apos was bored.

The Devil of Revelations found order utterly despicable; he had fell with Lucifel in the first place out of pure want to see chaos and destruction, but then found the Human World filled with those. Bloodshed and battle happened often there, along with disillusionment, anarchy, murder and back-stabbing, and all the pretty little red-coloured things that even that Angel of War in Cielo could not name in full. In his self defense, Revelations bring forth hidden mistakes, past hideous crimes and various other nasty things, occurring in past, present and future. With a Revelation, people could resolve their differences, or go to war with one another. There is no in-between.

And perhaps because Apos's nature as Revelation is destructive, he is as such. Yet, in the dreary realm of Inferno, with volcanoes and magma and all the unpleasantness, Apos finds himself unsatisfied with not doing much but sit and talk, talk and talk at meetings. He finds himself trapped in a boring world.

Until one day came the most terrifyingly disgustingly exciting destructive love story from the mouth of a Devil.

The words came from a single male idiot of a Devil named Furcas. His form was graceless at best, being one of the lower forms of Devils, with his figure fitting of a one who spreads malice via manipulation of certain truths under Apos. Also, he was utterly lacking of a brain.

During the ruling held in Inferno, occurring at the time period the divine court in Cielo began the trial for the other half of the couple, Devils snickered mockingly at the sad excuse of a Devil standing at attention. Allies of the Devil tried to speak up for him, claiming the Angel Lairz to have orchestrated a plan to bring Furcas to ruin. Surely! they shout. Surely this must be the work of their God! They screamed the words to Judge Belial.

"Pathetic," Orias murmured next to Apos, as both of them eyed the Devil Furcas spitting fire and brimstone at his friends for their 'desecrating terminology'.

I love an Angel, so claimed Furcas, so much so I would gladly give my heart over to him!

The statement, laughable and ridiculous, sent waves of amusement in the crowds of Devils gathered. Apos smiled sharply. His own underling saying that? Well, Furcas certainly had a wish for utter pain to be delivered to him. Belial glanced at him, and Apos grinned back with wriggling fingers.

"Your claim is on Love," so said Belial, "and as much as I want Revelation to reveal that Angel's true feelings for you, I believe it to be more than adequate for him to deliver your punishment.

Nods and hisses of agreement and cries for blood to be shed; a song of mockery sung to this Devil who fell for a stupid follower of Him. 

Allies of Furcas retreat into the shadows, defeated by their lack of ability to stop the Devil.

The most typical state of action here would be to send Furcas to Tartarus; a realm of pain and anguish that continues for an eternity. He would then be forced to drink from the River Lethe to reincarnate into a weak human, wandering the world for one hundred years. But then again, that protector of humanity... would Furcas's precious Angel not be watching over him for that single century?

"Yours is certainly a case of deception from the Angel's side; however," Apos's voice took a sharp turn from soft and sympathetic to harsh and cruel, "you spoke up for that Angel instead of recognizing your own foolishness. For that, Tartarus would be too kind to you."

Apos gestured for Furcas's allies to approach, and his own subordinate, Caim, to do the same. He whispered the order to be carried out before waving them away to carry it out. The former two began sobbing immediately, but Caim stepped forward with a resolute steely expression.

As they did as Revelation said, Apos spoke of Furcas's sentence, "You shall have your wings torn out; no longer will you be seen as a Knight-ranked Devil. You shall wander the Earth for an eternity. Your Angel cannot ever see you again, because..."

Apos nodded to Caim. "He has the ability to render you completely blank of any memory; your mind will be wiped to the point you may not remember your own name."

Gasps of shock. Indeed, Caim was a minor Devil - serving as President, but his specialty power was exceptionally enjoyable to put to the test. It seemed like a tame ability better fitting of an Angel, and though there was no denying the last shred of Angelic grace still left inside him, Caim was loyal to a fault.

Furcas remained as strong as his stature implied, until Caim's power was explained. The Devil then fell to him knees, crying out before collapsing to the ground. His allies, watched by the sneering eyes and discerning looks of other Devils, had no choice but to do as Apos said. In a single instant, Furcas's bat-like wings were laying a few feet from him actual body.

The blood-curdling screams started immediately. Furcas writhed in pain as silver blood ran down his back, colouring his black-and-red colours a sterling silver. By the time Caim was saying the words to activate his power, however, the silver dulled to a sickly grey.

"Well then, may you soon realize the truth of your Angel's actions," Apos stared stonily down at him.

As Furcas was dragged away to be hurled out on Earth, all that could be heard was his miserable cry.

\-----

"The truth, eh?" Belial smiled at Apos. 

"Do you find my sentence to Furcas not to your liking?" Apos raised an eyebrow.

' They rested in Belial's lounge in his mansion; music played by insignificant evil spirits surround them, with bloody reds and charcoal black colouring the walls and furniture. Ordering the restoration of normal activities was difficult, with the stupid act of Furcas sending everyone into mad giggles. But the threat of having Lucifel, their precious Lord involved, was enough to get them running to their stations.

"I don't mean to be rude, but do you, Revelation, find the truth of his lover's devotion so richly detailed false?" Belial murmured.

Ah yes. His domain included truth as well. "Do you question my ruling, Belial? You? Prince of Lies?"

"I mean not to. But his screams at the last moment," Belial closes his eyes, thinned his lips. "were filled with the name of that Angel. Devils would not trust an Angel. None of us do - the fact he did is disconcerting."

"He cried for that despicable being, just like a human for their lover," Apos muttered. "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Then realize we are not those humans," Apos's smile spread, slow and languid, with a touch of viciousness. "Far from it."

"Ah," Belial nodded. "Revelation never had a single word of open-hearted truth spoken to him. Sad."

 

"Not as sad as Lie unable to distinguish between truth and mere fabrications," Apos said lightly.

 

\-----

 

"I've won yet again, Apos," Caim plucked the dice from his fingers, smiling evenly.

 

Now, Caim and Apos played with dices instead of human lives. Hundreds and thousands of years had passed since Furcas's trial, the first case of a Devil falling for an Angel's charms. For the sake of being able to bear open their hearts. They later happened more and more, and Apos had not a single night to rest his limbs - preoccupied with his own domain and haunted by clones of that first case, he busied himself with keeping an eye on every Devil travelling the realms.

 

Due to the thankfully slowing cases, Apos took the spare time to play dice with Caim - the Devil who helped with Furcas's ruling. However, it irritates Apos to no end that he could never win against Caim.

 

"Human constructions of games," Apos eyed the dices as they fell into a pouch, "are simply irrational."

 

"Do not succumb to sloth, and you'll find your way around it," Caim said encouragingly.

 

"Sloth," Apos's lips curled in disgust, "is gone." He stared out the window, at the ever-cooling lava and magma that once constantly boiled and incited terror from condemned souls. Ever since the cases began occurring with great frequency, this had happened. And snickering Devils all say it was because of-

 

"Recall, Caim, that when Sloth willingly signed his life as a high-ranking Devil over, he did so because the revelation of an Angel's love being false did not occur to him." Apos said tightly.

 

Apos's failure to get the truth of an Angel's love being false spread. His failure to give a more harsh punishment, as an example of how Angels can condemn Devils so. The whispers sent his headache coming, and his temper rising. Due to that, more 'Furcas's' followed his lead, the cases picking up in frequency a century ago.

 

"Perhaps one day, they will realize those Angels' lies," Caim tried pacifying.

 

"Do not mock me," Apos growled, his mood souring from its already-worsened state. "The truth is that despite they were Devils, they were too blind to the fact their precious lovers were hiding daggers behind their smiles. When they claimed their love true, bearing their hearts beautiful, they were mocking Revelation, me!"

 

"Bearing hearts, lowering their barriers," Apos got up from his seat and stormed out. "All stupid lies!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate criticism on my work; please, if you have any things to say about the overall structure, such as mistakes, do point it out. You'll have my utmost gratefulness.


	3. For All They Say-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs* This is such a disaster

Amariel stared at Diari for all she was worth - and as Love, she was worth a lot, going by the actions of humans. Her most recent 'nighttime companion' laid beside her, asleep and oblivious to the presence of an Angel not hiding her signature. 

"Go on a mission to enrapture and capture a Devil, you say?" Amariel's lips twisted in derision. "That would be unsightly; a Seraph like me! Expected to do such an ugly job."

"In a sense, the true purpose of this mission is your duty," Diari admitted reluctantly, wringing her hands. "You could extract information from the Devil about the mechanisms of their 'Love' and what they use to tempt those Angels."

"The experience would be enough for the latter reason, and the former is just simply-" Amariel made a sound of frustration, braid bouncing as she tried to find a word. "The former is just - just ridiculous. What divides us Angels and those Devils is a thin line of whom we chose to follow back in the days right before The Fall." 

The snap in Amariel's voice in her last sentences stirred her companion. Taking notice of it, Amariel made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat before clicking her fingers. "Sleep," she commanded. 

When she turned back to Diari, the latter Angel is smiling. "This mission could reinstate your position as Love, Amariel; if you triumph over a Devil for this case, you could convince the heathens who spread those rumours to hush. The Angels' faith in you would be restored in its fullest."

"Are you saying that this would be a way of saying the Angels themselves were at fault?" Amariel hummed a bit, realizing what prospects this could bring. An interesting idea, and easily altered to suit her own whims. She glanced back at her sleeping one-night stand, blew a kiss to the man to whish him off to his own bed in the Human World.

Gathering her robes, throwing her hair back, she smiled tightly at Diari. "Fine. Then let's start."

\-----

Apos barely glanced at Caim when he spoke out the intricacies of his plan to cause an Angel's fall, executed by Apos himself; his powers as Revelation let him see the plan in Caim's mind before he even began on it. 

"A mission to seduce an Angel?" Apos smirked at his subordinate. "Too easy. No."

"You can read my thoughts, Apos," Caim spoke calmly, "surely you can see why I'm giving you the idea."

"I am Revelation," his words were cold as he spoke. "I am the one to play Satan's violin as the world comes to an end. I would not accept such an ill-fitting mission. Besides," he added, adjusting his suit, "Angels and Devils... we could not be more similar."

There was a dreary quality to Apos's words, and he himself seemed to notice it, grimacing at the sight outside his windows. As always, magma continued to cool and tortured souls seemed much more happy. Caim wisely said nothing, listening to the silence embrace them both as Apos thought about it in more detail.

"And as Revelation," Apos grinned slowly like a shark, eyes filled with fiendish delight, "I suppose it's my duty to expose the lies of those white-winged creatures."

\-----

It was strange, Apos and Amariel would later decide. Strange how their fates paralleled one another. Strange how despite being strongly against their respective subordinate's plans, they still agreed albeit with much reluctance. Strange how their Lords never argued with their decision. 

And so, under the watchful eye of Him in Cielo, Amariel vowed in front of Orphiel and all of the other Seraphim to carry out the mission. Under the freezing eyes of Satan, Apos signed his name on the papers describing the mission in detail.

It was strange, Amariel would later think, how their respective missions twinned their fates together forever.


	4. -I Had Never Understood-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Apos and Amariel find themselves wondering about whom to choose as their 'targets'.

   

   A week after her vow in the presence of Him, the Seraphim, and Judge Orphiel, the mission had not yet began for Love. Amariel was bored flipping through the Repository's books and records, searching for some particular Devil to focus on. Big names like Belial, Beelzebub and Lilith could not do, and when they were still Angels, Amariel had known them like the back of her hand, so...

   And no lower-ranking ones. Nothing below Count - it was a  _request_ she had, and, given that Love herself is of the highest Angelic rank possible, it was passed. However, that meant only the Princes, Dukes and Marquises were left. Amariel's lips turned down in disgust. 

   Already, many names were out - a large majority of the names were too conservative to even  _suggest_ or hint seductive intention to. They would bring her to Satan in an instant. Next, the ones who were not inclined towards her charms. Or Love. Then, the hard-core muscular warriors - no, no thanks!

     Hours later, Amariel inclined back in her seat, frowning deeply. Prince Apos and Great Prince Sitri. The latter was very similar to her in his description - his domains included lust, desire, and temptation, and his usual form was either an attractive redheaded girl or a handsome strapping man. The former, Apos, was Revelation himself.

    Swiftly, her book was plucked out of her sight. Groaning, Amariel glared at the guilty Angel behind her. "Metatron."

     The Celestial Scribe, blue eyes glinting, handed the book over with a pout. "Aw... is this about the mission?"

     "Yes," Amariel huffed. "Interrupt me again, and suffer for it."

    "Ouch; cruel," a pause. "Wait, now your choices are Apos and Sitri?"

    Amariel paused for a moment before sighing.

    "I'm choosing Sitri," Amariel said coolly, closing the book abruptly. She promptly sauntered to the bookshelves, with Metatron following near behind her. Seeing the section, Amariel quickly pushed the book into the crevices between two books, hurrying back to her chair.

    "Why Sitri?" Amariel grimaced as Metatron continued to follow her after she had taken her bag. Soon, they were past the Celestial Gardens, strolling ahead and ignoring Gabrielle's house. The persistent Scribe continued to stalk and repeat his question a few more times, and it was soon when Amariel's temper had risen to 'absolute fury' levels.

    "Because!" Amariel exploded, before taking a shaky breath in. "Because he's easier to handle. He's like my counterpart of sorts; it's only natural I take him."

    "Now," Amariel glared at Metatron, who simply stared back in shock, "if you excuse me, I shall have to tell the other Seraphim of this choosing."

    Metatron watched as Amariel ambled past several terrified Angels, who stuttered out greetings and apologies as they got out of Love's way. "Geez," he mumbled, "I wonder if it's that simple."

\-----

    A week and a half after his official signing of the mission contract, Apos was told of yet another potential Angel to carry it out on. Yes -  _yet another_. Already, Revelation had kicked away ideas of seducing young Guardians, attracting strong-willed Virtues and falling into a false romance with Hashmallim. Needless to say, he was not too keen on the names being mentioned so far.

    "Who is it?" Apos immediately posed the question when Malthus entered his sleeping quarters.

    Not missing a single beat; "Amariel, Angel of Love, ranked Seraph."

    Apos briefly knitted his eyebrows. Which Angel was Amariel again? Malthus noticed his expression and elaborated, "She's the one with her hair in multiple or single braids, eight-winged, the one who handled the cases where Angels were in romantic relations with Devils."

    Apos raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall a  _face_ , Malthus," he said dryly. 

   Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Malthus instead replied, "Lilith painted a portrait of her; it's the one lying at a corner in the East Wing of her villa."

   Ah. That Angel. Even so, Apos frowned at the very mention of 'Seraph'. Absurdly high-ranked, the embodiment of Love herself, eight-winged, and his Angelic counterpart in regards to those cases. While he could recall a very appealing face on that portrait, the mention of all of her other attributes unnerved him. 

    He opened his mouth to refuse, only for Malthus to stop him before he does and say, "Prince Apos, if I may ever be so brave, I would like to mention the sooner you handle the case, the higher ranked the Angel, the better their fall... the more satisfying your reward could be."

   "Are those words from Belial's mouth?" Apos murmured in response.

   "Yes."

   Apos's frown deepened. "Soon, you say? How soon?"

   Malthus materialized a few papers out of thin air, flipping through and finding the information with the efficiency of a secretary. "Tomorrow. You could trade places with Great Prince Sitri to attend the Annual Mist Dance in Faerie Society, where Amariel would be. We've received hints that the Angels' plan could be to do the same as what you are doing... except Love herself would be trying to seduce Lord Sitri."

    The Prince almost felt like bursting out in laughter. How naive; as expected of an Angel. Love trying to bring Lust to ruin... they truly did not understand the nature of Devils. if anything, Amariel would be the one in tears.

    'Well, then?" Malthus raised an eyebrow.

   Apos smirked. No matter how intimidating her information sounds, if she thought of something as disgustingly innocuously cruel as  _that_... well, needless to say, Apos may not even need to wink at Amariel. " _Yes_ ," he purred out.

\-----

    Amariel poured alcohol into Metatron's crystal goblet, watching the Angel eye the drink in glee. They toasted to the eve of Amariel's mission's beginning, both downing the strong beverage in a single gulp.

     "Honestly, I worry,' Metatron wiped at his lips with a napkin. "No matter how good you are, Love, you cannot be as good as the Devil that's practically the transformer of love to lust."

     Amariel shrugged in response, smirking. "That's what you think.'

     Metatron's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

     Amariel reached for the glass bottle again, pouring it out slowly into both of their goblets. "I had Angels spread the news I was taking on Sitri, but I actually chose Apos."

     Metatron stuttered at that. "W-what? Why?"

     Amariel shrugged. "Because he too is my counterpart of sorts. And," she leaned forward, eyes serious, "I suspect there is a traitor in our midst. We spread this false information, if Sitri is switched out tomorrow for Apos, nothing to worry about."

     Metatron shook his head, wincing as he accidentally inhaled his alcohol. "What does that have to do with anything?"

     Amariel snorted and rolled her eyes. "The Annual Mist Dance always had one of the highest ranking persons from every race and species attend. The Devils sent in either Belial or Beelzebub each year, and always it was either Gabrielle, Michael or I attending. To think they chose Sitri this year is suspicious; they could be thinking of using him for a similar goal to my mission."

      "If and when I spread the false information of taking Sitri, they would know I am confident enough to face Lust himself," Love smirked. "In panic, they would choose the emotionless bastard of a Devil, Apos, who is immune to any sort of so-called 'humane' emotion."

     Amariel took a long sip of her alcohol, sighing in appreciation. Metatron pouted. Ah, she got him fooled. Damn. Amariel grinned as she stared out the window, watching the stormy skies clear. This would be  _easy_.


	5. -The 'True' Value of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Throws everything in the air*

Amariel eyed the loathsome crowd of creatures from all the Worlds, coming together on this night, from the balcony of her guestroom. Being an Angel, she was naturally privileged to a suite in the hotel the Annual Mist Dance was being held; Diari helped with the arrangements and Metatron oh-so-kindly providing her the lay-out of the entire complex of hotels. Apparently, the hotel she was staying in was called 'Sunrise House'.

She had smirked at that. A straight path from Sunrise House to the Devil's quarters, Moonlit Paradise, was all that separated two opposing natures from meeting. And right in the middle of the wide path was a circular fountain and a horizontal road that circled around the fountain, to allow those in vehicles to alight there and proceed in either direction.

Diari was fabulously brilliant in carrying out her tasks; the suite was located on neither too high nor too low a level, with a marble balcony providing an excellent view on any approaching forces, and with furniture and decoration arranged to keep any winged being comfortable with their extra limbs out. Love let a smile stretch her lips as she clutched the masquerade mask in her hand.

Proceeding back into the room, she reached out for the plan of the lay-out of the hotels, placing the mask where it used to be on the bedside cabinet. Falling back onto the bed, Amariel scanned through the names, race and species of the guests of that night's Dance. When Diari had arrived with Amariel to check-in that very morning, she was informed of the numerous secret passageways under Sunrise House to all the other hotels in the complex.

Amariel frowned. Faerie Queen Titania and her attendent Victoria, Troll Emperor Eldritch and servant Ivan... such troublesome beings. She only had one night, but surely those creatures will ruin her simple goals for just another moment of banter-

Oh. Well, looks like she would have to hand over the gown and mask Metatron bought for her. Pity. She loved the minimalist mask, with its swirls and pearls, and the gown had such an elegant feel to it. Oh well, Amariel sighed dramatically. Diari shall wear it for her; Amariel had priorities, and goals that can be accomplished better with another ensemble.

But first, she needs to get Diari back to the compound. Fast.

\-----

Apos watched as Amariel stepped back into her room with distaste in the twist of her lips. He continued watching, until Amariel seemed to have erased the Angelic signature of her aura entirely. He had to admit, he was not keen on the whole idea. She resembled someone he knew once, when he too was an Angel, and while it was nothing to shout about, Apos did not like the idea of those implications.

Caim had given him all the necessities he needed, and the extravagances he did not need, before vanishing off to handle more 'admin work'. The people that were confirmed to be staying in Moonlit Paradise, the hotel his suite was located in, consisted of multiple persons whose names were infamous or awe-inspiring in all the Worlds, from the far reaches of peaceful Tibet to the damned corners of Tartarus.

But handling the latter was not his duty that day, so who cares?

His forehead pleated when Amariel stepped onto the balcony again, back facing the rest of the world, as she appeared to be speaking with someone. Soon, she smiled - and oh, how Apos's heart twisted in anger; she had no right, no right - and laughed at some sort of ill-begotten humour, before sobering and materializing a goblet filled with scarlet liquid.

Apos turned away from the disgusting sight and referred back to the sketches Caim had made of the complex with all its twists, turns and secret passages. The ball shall be in Sunrise House, but if Apos is going to start anything at all with that Angel, he had to know how to go about it.

He turned back from the plans on the table, to eye Amariel's balcony. A flash, a brief glimpse of black and silver, met his gaze, and he blinked. Ah. He had the idea in his mind now.

"So, the Angels aren't into pure as they used to be, eh?'

Apos murmured before glancing lazily at his own suit.

\-----

A night of glamour, costume over simple formalwear, intricate beading over pearl necklaces, of beings from all the corners and far reaches of the universe. Amariel was glad she did not wear the fantastic dress Metatron got for her; her Angelic presence would be too obvious. Every person was dressed and clothed with hints at their background; Queen Titania wore a dress of turquoise and silver that flowed elegantly from her delicate waist as a mask of blue-green blossoms and emeralds adorned her face, Emperor Eldritch covering his face with a mostly black mask accented with dull bronze-gold, and even the Human guest Sarah carried an iridescent blue mask to complete her glimmering ensemble.

A splendid Dance for magical and ethereal beings. Yes, the Faerie Society had done another awesome art of making the evening more splenduous then the Dances before. The best part was, none of them would notice Amariel carrying out her mission.

Hair teased into ombré curls that fell to her lower back, lips painted in the colour of lust, a harlequin mask of deep purple, swirls and lines of silver, and shades of pure black, and a black corset dress with a neckline of rhinestone and jet black forming over and under her breasts, followed by a mesh waist with lines of solid black leading to hips of diamante. A series of dark ruffles follow, ending mid-thigh at the left of her front, descending to meet the floor at the other end. Silver filigree winds around her neck tight, rubies of the deepest red decorating her throat, matching pumps of black lace-and-mesh adorned with purple-silver ribbons, as Love sashays through the crowd.

Her weapon had shifted into the form of a black, silver and dark purple corsage, with grey ribbons and black-and-white striped frills, all tied to her wrist. Amariel particularly loved the dull silver flowers and black roses, feathers, all lavish details leading to simple slim chains of raven ending in pearls of ink on her mask. Gunmetal chains and smaller sequined blossoms on the right gave asymmetry and contrast, preventing the whole mask from looking tacky.

Love smirked as she saw Diari in her own mask and dress at the main entrance, covered in white ruffles and diamente, adorned with pearls and lace with black filigree on her mask - a snow Angel in her royal habitat. Amariel smirked, winking subtly at Diari, before proceeding to weave through the crowd, heading up on the nearest spiral staircase.

"Well, then, dear little Devil," she breathed, "let the games begin."

\-----

An hour into the Annual Mist Dance, Apos saw Amariel's impersonator. Dressed in a satin gown with flounced hems, and with a typical white mask on her face, the female looked like the others - boring. He ignored her; if the Seraph planned on doing something, she would know he could see through it. Unless, Love truly was as airheaded and silly as the rest of the beings here. Apos breathed out a sigh, grabbed a goblet of wine, as irritation frayed his nerves. Whatever. He's just going to end up saying this was a failure again. In a corner, hidden by shadows and virtually non-existent among the clothes of iridescent colours, he saw her. As if commanded to, his feet moved in her direction.

\-----

Amariel smiled as Diari diverted the attention of the creatures from her. She could feel it - a cold, malicious, sadistic aura filled with amusement, creeping up to her. The Prince.

\-----

Amariel turned.

\-----

Apos stopped.

\-----

 

" _I'm curious... why do people insist on using 'Love' as if it is a sacred word?"  
_

_Apos opened one eye, "Why do you insist otherwise?"_

_Amariel glanced at him. "I think I would know best."_

_"No, no, it is not that - why do you insist people using 'Love' as if it's sacred is... odd."_

_Amariel closed her eyes._

_"Because everyone says that even though... their actions speak for themselves."_

 

_\-----_

When Amariel and Apos met, face-to-face, it seemed to matter very little in the face of the universe.

The ball did not get disrupted.

The end days did not come.

No war was started.

The gears of their story did not speed up.

And when they saw each other, no spark existed, except one of bloodlust.

\-----

"Amariel-"

_-"Are you sure they are not simply mistaking a mutual crush for love?"_

_-_ "We meet, at long last."

\-----

The stench of blood from the Fall still remains on Heaven's holy grounds. 

 


	6. Interlude IV- Monsters and Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amariel's mentor talks to her.  
> \----  
> "Even so, someday, you will meet him again."  
> Amariel laughed brokenly. "And then what? We kill each other?"
> 
> The smile on Seraphiel's lips spread. "Yes."

"We shall stop here for today."

At once, Amariel collapsed, wings drooping immediately as she fell to her knees. Her teacher, Seraphiel, the Angel closest to their God, frowned at something in the waters of the bowl. Either a prophecy or an interesting sight - Amariel cared little as she massaged her aching wings. With Seraphiel, combat training is a burden on all. Amariel grunted, plucking out the thin blades she had thrown at her, leaving red gashes that healed before she had taken her next breath.

"Metraton's class now?" Amariel scrunched up her face, twisting her lips in derision. 

Seraphiel rolled her eyes, silver armour reflecting the light of Heaven like shattered glass. "Don't you worry; just a little bit of your history. Metraton is out."

"... Still, disgusting." 

Seraphiel snorted. "You are still naive-"

"I know a damn lot!" Amariel exploded. The memory of that boy crashed into her, causing her to shake with the fury and might of a Hashmallim. "I... know what I have to do."

Seraphiel closed her eyes. It was one of these times - these times when Seraphiel felt most like what animals would call a 'parent'. Understanding yet demanding. Soft and gentle yet firm and cold.  Amariel hated it. That gentle, loving expression screamed betrayal to her senses; it was what that boy wore when he pinned her wings to the wall with daggers. 

Amariel breathed in sharply. " _Oh, how the mighty Lucifel had fallen - fast, losing all his pride and glory as the Morningstar. And when his partner came after, with blades and tears of utter agony, how they screamed in mutual pain. When all those whose other halves had turned against them, their combined sorrow brought forth the monster of destruction, whose danger outclasses every Angel, whose fate is to kill their counterpart, the creature of death, such that their hurt could be avenged."_

"Metaphors and symbolisms...," Amariel glared half-heartedly at Seraphiel. "They serve no purpose other than to tell us to kill them - our Fallen halves - simply to right wrongs. The 'monsters' were just the combined feelings of those abandoned in Heaven. Why tell us to recite this ridiculous thing?"

"Because you must know your duty."

"I know it, but I can't understand it," Amariel materialized a bow and an arrow, mocking her own position as she targets one of the wandering souls on the grounds. "Balance, you all preach. But if I kill Hate, the balance would tip in favour of the light."

It was one of these times. One of those times, when Amariel could not understand what was taught. Balance? Moderation? Partners? If one dies, the scale would still tip. And in the early dawn of creation, was the balance not tipped in favour of the light? Or did God create evils to counter the purity into neutrality? 

"I can't understand my own nature, Seraphiel," Amariel uttered, firing the arrow. "How could I understand you?"

The Seraph glanced at where the arrow had landed. It had missed terribly; piercing through the petals of a flower instead. She sighed, armour dissipating away, before resting next to Amariel. Hands holding each other's, gazes connected, Seraphiel smiles. "Even so, someday, you will meet him again."

Amariel laughed brokenly. "And then what? We kill each other?"

The smile on Seraphiel's lips spread. "Yes."

\-----

Monsters and creatures. Now Amariel understood. 

Those were metaphors for a reason - for only the great pain of hurt could reinforce the feelings of terrifying love that had been twisted into rapturous hate. Then, the hate would give birth to a being as monstrous as the abandoned are. The cycle would thus be completed by monsters killing the creatures, and renewed by comrades rising up to arms. The wars of Heaven and Hell would last for an infinite amount of time, because such is balance. Such is 'Love'.

"Now," Amariel whispered into the ears of her newest 'partner', "what sort of monster would you conjure?"

 


	7. But, Certainly,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for this late update.
> 
> And I am very, very sorry for the horrible writing.
> 
> Warning for mentions of genital mutilation, miserable dirty jokes, and not-quite-sex scene

In the early, early dawn of creation, Diari had only been a fragment of the future. Compared to Orphiel, the great Seraphiel, and of course, Love herself, Diari was born quite a bit later than them; she had not been able to witness the great rise of the earthly realms from where there was emptiness, and neither had she existed when the Morningstar rebelled.

In many ways, Diari was a baby.

But even she knows of what Amariel must certainly be doing at the moment. Or rather – her mind quickly descended into the gutter – _who_.

She mentally high-fives herself for that excellent play on words, a smile momentarily stretching across her deceivingly cherubic face before she forces it into neutrality. _The Troll Emperor certainly is a talkative maniac_ , she thought, examining the surprisingly luscious cowlick on his otherwise balding head absently. As Eldritch goes on a long tirade on how Seraphiel had been ignoring his beseeches despite his attempts to please the Angel – _redesign the females’ armour, you ass,_ she snorts silently – Diari thinks back on a specific topic she had been taught years ago.

Two halves of a whole creature.

The original dynamics of Heaven.

It is a romantic notion – _almost as romantic as Anabiel squeezing- ah, ah, nope_ – the idea of two souls making a whole. If memory serves Diari right, the idea was used by a Human philosopher on the concept of soulmates, except in physical form rather than in spirit.

“…But, Amariel, dear,” Diari’s eyes widen minutely when Eldritch dared reach out and squeeze her hands. “Surely you can convince your mentor on this, considering your _relations_.”

Diari briefly wonders if her Lady would forgive her innocent soul for reaching out and squeezing this monster’s shrivelled testicles until they burst. No, she decides. Besides, if they were shrivelled, could they really burst? Yet, it does royally piss her off when someone makes a double entendre on the strong relations between Amariel and Seraphiel.

And so, it is with an _innocent_ and _pure_ bat of her eyes she replies, “Why, that would be as likely as your female warriors daring to approach you with wild abandon and spread legs.”

Unfortunately, Diari notes with a repressed sigh, it seems as if her sarcasm was not caught. Whatever. The Emperor had his pupils blown wide, breathing heavy and hands twitching by his sides, as if he is about to regress into his true form.

And so, it is with much delight that Diari calls Faerie Queen Titania over –

And it is with much glee that she watches the Queen’s attendant kick so hard between the Emperor’s legs that he wails out for the whole realm to hear.

Yes, she notes in the rapture of her own joy, this would be utterly unforgivable.

\---

Meanwhile, Amariel briefly halts in the middle of undressing Apos. Even the Devil seems to be caught in his confusion when a pained wail pierced the air. By then, Amariel’s teeth was on the zipper of his pants, and the shock of hearing the sudden scream interrupt their doings had nearly caused Love to bite down hard.

By Apos’s own insistence, the two beings had ended up at the Devil’s room. Amariel had not a single complaint, mainly because she was confident in her own prowess enough to handle any sudden shocks. But – she removed her teeth from his lower areas – she hadn’t quite expected the squeal of an animal.

“My, my, what a commotion,” Apos smirks down at where the Angel rested between his legs. “Could your servant be causing the ruckus?”

“My attendant,” Amariel corrects him, eyes flitting to the windows. Rising, she straddles the Devil, fingernails lightly stroking his neck and legs on either side of his torso. “Diari belongs to herself, not me.”

“You don’t seem bothered,” his voice very nearly hitches at the end. “Isn’t she precious to you at all?”

Amariel pushes him down, palms on his hard chest. Apos lands, gasping lightly when the Seraph brushes her thumb over his lips, face so close to his ear he feels her cool breath fanning across his neck.

“To think of another when Love herself is with you?” she mirrors his smirk, straightening her back to stretch, presenting herself to the eyes of the Devil. “You’ve got some nerve.”

When Apos grips her hips tightly, Amariel’s thoughts fly to Diari. Her Angels are not brainless minions, but if Diari had happened to encounter a Devil –

Heat prickles the back of her neck, thankfully hidden by her hair. She bites and sucks hard on the Devil’s collarbone, repeating and continuing the action all over his neck and chest. Apos groans and breathes in sharply when she licks over one hickey, nails lightly scratching down his abdomen. Her Devil here is not of low ranking. That would mean he similarly has an attendant at hand that could be as high a rank as Great President.

“You know,” he murmurs, “Caim should be there any moment now.”

Her lips leave his skin, and Apos does not sigh for it.His words – and Amariel knows not of this – voice his worries. Love’s smile is leisurely, reddened lips curving gracefully. “First my attendant, now you say the name of yours?” Her sigh is deceivingly smooth and smug, even as her ears ring with the name of the Devil coming very close with Diari. “Ah, Apos darling, such a cheat you are.”

She squeezes his left palm, leaning in to his lips- Apos’s free hand gripped her left wrist, squeezing tightly. She stops herself from inhaling _too_ sharply when his skin brushes against the corsage still tied to that wrist, instead settling for a dark, half-lidded look. Let no one say a bit of intimidation kills sex immediately.

He, however, no longer had thoughts of seduction flowing through his brain. His grip tightens, eyes narrowed. “Caim should be there any moment now – are you sure you have not the slightest concern of him doing this to her?”

Flipping their positions, Amariel could not restrain the gasp of shock this time when her back hits the bed from Apos’s sudden movement. Nor could she stop herself from saying ‘no’ when his fingers trail way too near to her crotch.

No – not because of only one reason, but also because of another.

And staring up at Apos’s unreadable expression, she thinks with irritation that she really should have just teased and left him.

\---

“What did you say?” Diari _calmly_ gets up into the bastard’s face.

The midget simply puts on an infuriating smirk, and anger rushes in her veins. Her face is still schooled into a cool mask, and little of her body language gives away her aggression at the moment. But as of that moment, it feels very, very tempting to just lose it all, release her rage, let go of the image of ‘cold and calculating’ Diari.

Wonder, wonder, and wonder she would later on.

And rage openly for the first time in her life she would much, much later.

Now, she just wants to see the slimy midget’s blood spilling on the floor, teeth knocked out and gums ruined, eyes filled with fear and _wings mere stumps as he falls, hands reaching-_

“M-My Lady?” a soft stutter.

Diari’s head whipped around, almost snarling at the interruption only to notice the voice-

-Was her own.

And the sight that meets her eyes was the illusion of her own form and face, fleetingly flickering over that of Amariel’s, whose eyes were as hard as ice and as unforgiving as a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this didn't go according to your expectations. I know, it didn't go according to mine either.  
> Originally, I had planned for Diari and Caim to be the backstabbing duo, but it was a plot too cliche for my tastes so I abandoned it by Interlude time.  
> Yeah, I chose a secret perverted Angel and a 'midget' Devil instead of cool, expert ninja subordinates.
> 
> I am very, very sorry.
> 
> The writing and characterization, in particular, are not what I wanted, during all the scenes of this and the previous Interlude (temper tantrums, near or not, and not-sex scene especially) and I deeply apologize for this lack of quality work.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my wattpad


End file.
